


Home Security

by factorielle



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte
Genre: Chapter Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/factorielle/pseuds/factorielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first night Mizutani spends in his new home, he gets an unexpected visit. (Tag to Chapter 60)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Security

The party is already going strong when Tajima arrives, wrapped in a woollen sweater and a scarf despite the warmth of an early spring evening.

"Wow, I thought idiots didn't get sick?" Mizutani calls as greetings, and mentally blames it on the beer as the others snicker not-so-discreetly.

Tajima, of course, can't spot an accidental insult when it's flung right at his face. "I know!" he exclaims. "I kept saying that, and yet..." he frowns. "Ah, it doesn't matter. Here's your housewarming present!" He shoves an unwrapped black box at Mizutani, who opens it eagerly. Inside he finds condoms, a bottle of lubricant, tissues, fur-lined handcuffs, a strap of black material that looks suspiciously like a blindfold, and...

"A remote control?" The thing is small, fits easily in his hand, but the wire coming out of it ends in a jack plug, and unless the handcuffs are supposed to vibrate there's nothing else in the box that seems to go with it.

Tajima looks at the box from over his shoulders. "I must have forgotten something. Whatever, you'll get it later. Show me around!" That takes all of five seconds: kitchen right here, bathroom that way, and no, that's a closet, in which the porn is not hidden, Tajima, close the door and come get a beer instead of searching other people's belongings. It so happens that the most embarrassing porn is in that closet, hidden as safely as possible in a yet unopened cardboard box, but the others don't need to know that.

Eight grown guys were already a bit much to fit in the room, but Tajima spots the last available spot almost immediately, and jumps over Nishihiro and Suyama's legs to get to the window. None of them even think of complaining when he closes it before sitting down : Tajima's body is his currency, and none of them like to see his team lose. Still, for looking so sick, he seems pretty lively, calling out to Mihashi and teasing Hanai as though he doesn't twist his busy schedule at least twice a week to meet up with them.

With nine of them in a closed room, it gets hot pretty fast; the only logical solution to that problem is to get more beer out of his tiny fridge. Once the distribution is over Mizutani sinks on his reserved spot on the laid-out futon, squeezed between Abe and Oki, Tajima's present shuffled under his legs. Lucky that the others were too engrossed in their conversations to ask what was in the box. That would have led to an uncomfortable hubbub about whether he even had someone to use those with, and he would have been left grasping for something to say as Tajima smiled knowingly.

Exhausted after spending the entire day moving and opening boxes, Mizutani closes his eyes for a moment.

He gasps awake when someone shakes him by the shoulder, and opens bleary eyes to find Sakaeguchi telling him that everyone's now going home. He nods dumbly, deciding that the studio is small enough for them to find the door, and too bad for good manners. He manages to take off his shirt before his controlled fall on the futon, and is already half-asleep again by the time Tajima waves him goodbye and tells him not to overdo it. It's kind of unfair how he can be so upbeat at two in the morning even when he's down with a cold, but life is always unfair in Tajima's favour.

There's a breeze coming in, nice and cool on his skin. Mizutani's asleep before he knows it.

He comes to full awareness in an instant, startled out of his slumber by something he can't immediately identify. A second later, the noise repeats and he freezes.

Everyone left earlier, Tajima was the last one to go and the door locks itself when closed, yet there's somebody in the room.

Heart beating wildly, Mizutani peeks to the side to look at the stranger in his new home. Medium build, dressed all in black with a hooded sweatshirt, and looking through the closet.

The first thing Mizutani thinks is how embarrassing it would be if the man noticed Tajima's present; the second, how stupid he is for even caring about that. Most of his possessions are still in boxes, and there's little enough money in his wallet, but what if the thief gets pissed at that and decides to hurt him instead in retaliation for having nothing worth stealing? He's never been in a fight before, there's no telling what weapons the guy has with him, and even if Mizutani could wrestle one away from him, chances are that he'll be useless with it. But maybe if he stays very still he can pretend to still be asleep until the man leaves, and then there'll be all the time in the world to face the shame of having done nothing to stop him.

The closet door startles him when it slides close, and the stranger turns around, looking straight at him.

Mizutani closes his eyes desperately, hoping against hope that he wasn't noticed because now he's seen the guy's face and he knows about the things that can happen in these--

He's seen the guy's face.

Unable to believe what he just saw, he opens his eyes again.

"Ah," Izumi says.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Mizutani yelps, scrambling up. Izumi blinks when the lights are turned on, and lets the filched wallet fall from his hand.

"Ah, I was, er..." He glances around, looking for a possible way out. The window is a couple of steps further, but the door is closed, so it's a stalemate. He glances back at Mizutani, who's the perfect picture of bewilderment.

"You were..." he looks down at the wallet at Izumi's feet and frowns. "Stealing?"

Izumi starts inching toward the door, keeping his eyes on Mizutani's face. That's how he sees the moment it happens, the precise point when understanding washes over confusion. It's the most dangerous moment, make-or-break; for a second he thinks it's not going to work and all his work will have been for nothing.

Then Mizutani's eyes narrow. "You're a thief," he says with more assurance. He goes straight to the door, closes a deadbolt. Izumi takes the chance to rush to the window, but he can't move as fast as usual and doesn't get there in time. He's only a step away when Mizutani cuts off his way out and grabs his wrist. "I'm calling the police."

Shock and terror. "You can't!" Izumi tries to shake off the tight grip on his wrist, to no avail; all he gets is trapped against the wall, the hood pushed off his head.

"Why not?" Mizutani demands.

Izumi plasters his back against the wall. "You can't," he repeats. "P-please. My boyfriend is waiting for me, he'll get worried, I..."

"Does your boyfriend know where you are, then?" Look down, no eye contact. "Or did you lie to him? Tell him you were working late and couldn't come over, maybe?" _Ouch._ "You come here in the middle of the night, and you think you can get off that easily when you get caught? I'm calling the police. Unless..."

Izumi looks at his face, hopeful. "Unless?"

"My lover hasn't been around lately. I've been feeling kind of lonely." _Okay, fine, I get it already._ "But you're pretty enough. You'd be a good replacement."

Izumi swallows the 'pretty' comment but marks it down for future retribution. He puts on a startled expression. "You don't mean..."

Mizutani nods.

Three seconds to debate the idea. Relax body stance from fight-or-flight to submission. "As long as you don't call the police."

"Good." He moves closer, tugs down the sweatshirt's zipper before setting his hand flat over Izumi's stomach. The t-shirt is tight and thin, letting the warmth seep through. Mizutani moves his hand back up slowly, fingers brushing over a nipple; Izumi flinches the tiniest bit, the touch unexpected, but it's already gone. Fingertips hook on the V-neck of his t-shirt for the briefest moment, then Mizutani takes a step back.

"Strip."

Isn't that bold of him. "Huh?"

"You won't be running off without your clothes. Strip. No sudden movements." He leans back against the window, giving Izumi a chance to really look at him. He must have fallen asleep without even taking the time to change, and everything about his appearance is endearing rather than threatening, from the sleep-mussed hair to the sweatpants hanging low on his hips to his posture, which is a lot less confident that he'd probably like to believe.

Izumi nods meekly and looks down at himself. He shrugs off the sweater on his way to the centre of the room, then reaches for the hem of his t-shirt with deliberation, tugs it out of his pants. He pushes it up inch by inch and finally pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the side before taking a glance at his target.

Mizutani is staring, breathing deep, clenching and unclenching his fists slowly. Izumi keeps his satisfaction on the inside as he undoes the buttons of his jeans with great care, pulls the zipper down, then leaves it at that and toes off his shoes, looking down.

When he reaches back to his pants there's an audible sigh. Izumi takes a second to congratulate himself for not picking the leather pants after all. Tight and ass-hugging they might have been, but there's no way he could have peeled them off gracefully. The jeans, on the other hand, are easily pushed down, although bending down to step out of them might have been a mistake. Within a few seconds he's standing in his boxers.

"All of it."

No need to protest; hanging his head, Izumi hooks his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and tugs them off. He's half-hard already, has been for longer than he cares to admit, and it is actually a little embarrassing to put on a show like that in the glaring light.

The material isn't heavy enough to slide down his legs, and this time he has to bend down for real, which makes him hiss. When he looks up Mizutani's head is tilted, his eyes roaming over every inch of skin. He licks his lips. "Turn around."

Slowly, putting care in every step, Izumi obeys; even with his back turned, he can sense the moment Mizutani sees.

"What's that?"

There's no point pretending not to know what he's talking about. The butt plug is black, makes a stark contrast against his skin; he's seen it in the mirror. "My boyfriend wants me to wear this." Not that he's ever said it out loud, but some things can be picked up in the air. "All the time. So that he can..." he holds back the word for effect, "fuck me whenever he likes."

"Really, now?" From the sound, Mizutani seems to have moved to the corner of the room, but then he comes back, stands so close behind Izumi that he can feel him. "And how do you like it?"

"I don't!" he protests. Mizutani grabs his wrists and pulls them behind his back. The handcuffs close easily, and tight; then there's a single moment of pressure _down there_, which is enough to make him jolt.

"I wonder how your boyfriend would feel, knowing what you're about to do." Lips trail over his neck, barely there, and it's a little difficult to care that he's not supposed to want this. "Get on your knees."

"I-" He gasps as the butt plug starts vibrating, going from still to maximum power in a fraction of a second. Then it's gone, just as fast, and Izumi's lost what he was planning on saying.

"Are you going to do this or do I need to call the cops? Or better, your boyfriend? I bet he'd love to see you like that."

It's a fair bet, judging by the look on Mizutani's face when Izumi turns around and slowly kneels, adjusting for the lack of balance caused by having his hands tied behind his back. It's pretty obvious what he's supposed to do, but he asks anyway.

Mizutani holds his gaze steadily for a few seconds, and the answer comes dark and commanding. "Suck me." Izumi's eyes widen, and for a split second he finds himself on the verge of breaking character. But then Mizutani pushes his pants and boxers down, just enough to show his cock underneath, and Izumi nods shakily, inches forward, and wraps his mouth around it. It's too late to feel it grow hard under his lips, but he knows what to do and how best to do it. Mizutani groans and flicks the power on the remote control up to a low buzz, which is nothing more than a hint but enough to make Izumi shift forward and adjust his position, moaning the slightest bit.

* * *

There's no doubting Izumi's skill at giving head, but the situation, the control make it even better, and when he wraps his hand in behind his head Izumi doesn't even twitch, just lets himself be guided and licks and sucks eagerly, just as though his freedom depended on it. But it's not just that; every now and then he uses the remote clenched tightly in his hand and Izumi makes a sound, something Mizutani's hardly ever heard from him, and it's awesome and he wants to hear it again and again. So he pushes the vibration higher and higher until he can go no further and Izumi is moaning continuously around his cock.

He pulls at Izumi's hair when it becomes too much, forcing him to move back, and he looks disappointed for an instant before his expression slips back to apprehensive, which is ruined a little by his glistening lips; but from that angle Mizutani can see that he's hard, too, and it makes him grin, though it feels nastier than usual. For a second he thinks about all the things he used to fantasize about doing in circumstances like these, but to hell with it. He rams his cock back into that welcoming mouth. His victim whimpers but takes it, and by gods he's used to getting good blowjobs but this is truly spectacular. It's seconds before he comes with a loud grunt, and for the first time Izumi resists the pressure on his head and pulls back, letting the spurts of come splatter all over his face.

He manages to pull up his pants and sit down without actually crashing, and stares. Izumi looks dejected, eyes closed and semen running down his face, but he's fully hard still, and Mizutani remembers the remote in his hand, lowers the vibrations back to nothing.

To his dismay there's no reaction to that, Izumi just sitting back on his heels, head still lowered. "You're looking really lewd," Mizutani hears himself say as he reaches for the box again and grabs a couple of tissues. Izumi flinches at the first touch but doesn't move, obedient as Mizutani wipes his face clean. Even after he's done he keeps running his fingers over flushed skin, the tiny scar at the edge of his eyebrow, the freckles that only fade after an entire summer spent in the sun. "Look at me," he orders, fingers under Izumi's chin. "I wonder how your boyfriend would feel if he knew what you've been doing?"

Izumi looks down and to the side in the perfect picture of guilt and humiliation, which only makes Mizutani want to throw him down on the futon. "I guess the least we can do is check if this thing works." He catches the remote again, thumbs it a bit higher.

"You don't mean... No! Please, I can't, he'll... I'll use my mouth, or my hands, anything, but not..."

Mizutani grabs him by the hair again, forces him to look into his eyes. "Fine. I'll call the cops after all." He watches the array of emotions play on his captive's face, until it settles on the kind of resignation that has wide eyes and parted lips and says yes please. The kiss is hard, with no thought dedicated to finesse or technique, and there's only the slightest hint of resistance before Izumi gives into it and lets him in. Mizutani wraps his arms around him, ostensibly for support, and pushes the vibration higher still, making him cry out maybe a little louder than is natural.

"You want it," he says nastily, and the words flow out easily, nowhere near as embarrassing as they should be. "You want me to rip that thing out of you and fuck you instead, don't you?"

Izumi shakes his head, biting his lips, but there's no way he's getting out so easy. Mizutani reaches down and wraps his hand loosely around his cock. Izumi tries to push in, and whimpers when that doesn't work. Mizutani wipes his finger across the tip, tightens his grip a little, and leans to whisper in his ear. "You keep saying no, but you're already dripping. You were already aroused when you came in, weren't you? From that slutty thing you have inside you." His answer is a prolonged, pleading moan, and he dives in. "I'll let you go," he promises, or threatens. "I won't call the cops, I'll give you back your clothes and let you go right now. But I'll only fuck you if you ask me to."

He only has to wait a second. "Yes. Yes, please."

"Please what?"

Izumi shudders in his arms and Mizutani has no idea how much of it is real.

"Please fuck me. Pull that thing out and replace it with your cock, please, I want it so bad." It sounds desperate enough, full of heat and want, and Mizutani nods toward the futon as he moves his attention back to the box, lube and condoms, all of it so well-prepared.

Izumi makes his way to the futon on his knees and settles there, legs spread wide. The decision takes a little while, but when Mizutani kneels behind him, the first thing he does is unlock the cuffs. The flare of the plug is easy enough to grab, but he has to tug at it with more force than expected before it starts to move. He pulls it out slowly, watching everything: the way Izumi's legs twitch, the way his fists clench against the sheets. Halfway through, he shifts his weight to move his right hand down; Mizutani shoves the plug back inside, making him cry out. "Don't touch yourself. You're mine." And how much he means that.

"How long have you had that thing inside you?" he asks, genuinely curious as he pulls it out again, more forcefully this time.

"Since -ah!- since lunchtime."

_Seriously?_ "So you've been walking around all afternoon with this, huh? At work, too? And you haven't touched yourself at all?" He pulls it out completely and throws it on the ground; there'll be time to contemplate the size and shape later, but for now, that's not what matters at all.

"I didn't," Izumi answers between pants. "I didn't, it's not good enough, I needed..."

"The real thing?" He scrambles to roll the condom on and rests the tip of his cock right in place.

"Yes..." it's a hiss, it's a plea, and Mizutani struggles with himself not to just thrust in.

"Then take it. It's right there."

"Yes..." again, but this time Izumi pushes, impales himself, and it's as good as Mizutani's ever dared to imagine, except it's easier too, he's sliding in so fast, and it's only seconds before he's fully in. Even so Izumi is still moving against him, making it obvious that there's no need to wait, and so he doesn't, grabs his hip with one hand and pushes down on his back with the other, keeping him in place. He thrusts hard, giving himself over to it even as his legs threaten to give out, no thoughts left in his head but _this is it, you're actually doing it, fucking the thief after he begged for it_. He's still doing so, in fact, moans interceded with _fuck me_ and _harder_ and _deeper_, and when Mizutani allows him - orders him- to touch himself he does so frantically, thrusting back and forth, and comes with his head thrown back, triggering Mizutani's own screaming orgasm. They stay in place for a moment before Izumi slides down onto the mattress.

It's at this point that Mizutani, mind blown and legs shaking, discovers unexpected downsides to being on top: turn off the light, realize the window's still open and it's a good thing it's a cool night because maybe the rest of the neighbourhood had theirs closed and didn't hear everything. He stays there for a moment, shuddering a little from the cool breeze on his heated skin, then closes it and topples down to the futon in a sideways collapse that leaves him accidentally sitting against the wall when he'd meant to lay down.

It seems too much of a bother to change positions at the moment, so all he does is reach to twist a strand of damp hair between his fingers. Izumi moves against it, rests his head and an arm on Mizutani's thigh. In the light coming from the street, Mizutani can see the reddish mark on his wrist. "Shit, was that too tight?"

Izumi yawns. "I picked the padded ones for a reason. You could have gone a little easier on a first-timer, though."

Mizutani's hand freezes mid-twirl. Now that the lust has mostly cleared away, he can remember the relevant twenty times when he asked or hinted about possibly being on top someday, and how every single time Izumi managed to deflect or avoid the matter. Since his favourite method of evasion seemed to involve giving a fantastic blowjob, Mizutani eventually forgot why it had seemed important.

Yet somehow, by some awesome twist of fate, the problem got solved. And it took Mizutani and his lust-addled brain all of half an hour to blow it, which is not even the worst part. If he's actually managed to hurt his boyfriend, that makes him as stupid as Abe ever told him he was. "Are you okay?"

Izumi doesn't answer at first. He stretches, shifts this way and that while burrowing his head into Mizutani's thigh in the most painful way possible, which is still not as excruciating as the silence. "We'll do it again," Izumi says eventually, and Mizutani's heart starts beating again. "Not all the time, though. And not any time this week. Ow."

His fingers comb through Izumi's hair on autopilot. "I'm sorry." Never has an apology been more heartfelt; the same applies to what comes after, even though he didn't quite intend to say it. "You're amazing."

"You don't even know half of it." Mizutani can hear the smirk, but when he asks why Izumi rolls off him and beckons him down. He slides there, sneaks under the blanket, and only when he's done making himself comfortable does his lover lean in and whisper the three sexiest words in the universe right against his ear. "I brought breakfast."

"I love you." The answer shoots out without going through the brain, and he'd feel embarrassed by how ridiculous it is to say that at this point, but Izumi only chuckles, turning a lazy, sun-warm smile to him.

"Lunch, too."

His part-time job at a convenience store might be hell on earth some times, but at least it provides them with however many bentos past expiration date that he can carry home, for which Mizutani is eternally grateful. But how is he supposed to top the previous confession? "I want to bear your children?"

Izumi raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. "Dinner?"

There's no escaping it. "Marry me."

They laugh together, which ends in a slow, lazy kiss. "I'll consider it," Izumi says when he pulls away, "if you pay for the drinks I owe Tajima."

That gives him pause for a moment. "For opening the window?" Let it not be said that he didn't figure that one out. Eventually. "Or for delivering the package?"

Izumi yawns, stretches against him in a very pleasant way. "He insisted I wasn't prepared enough. Bet me there were things I wouldn't be able to place. Overall, I missed..." he raises his hand over them, counting on his fingers as he quotes "'fill me with your love juice', 'you're the real thief, because you've stolen my heart' and 'your big schlong is tearing my man-pussy apart'."

Mizutani's in stitches by the time the list is over. "You know," he says when the hysterical laughter has receded enough to allow him to form coherent words, "I'd say those would have been the easiest way to ruin it, but that actually happened a long time ago." The arm falls back down - on him, which hurts a little. He considers that incentive enough to continue. "That time in camp, when we talked about it? After that, every time I tried to get into it I could see you laughing at me." And cursed him to the thirteenth generation, too.

"You put me in your fantasy." A little mocking, a little smug. The question of who liked whom first is an ongoing battle; it's a matter of manly pride, or at least that's what they tell themselves. Maybe it's really just a game now, and the rules state that Mizutani should now be getting offended and hotly deny the implication.

Instead, he leans in to steal a kiss. "Not back then," he says, which they both know is the truth and nothing but the truth. "I will now, though."


End file.
